Death Needs No Introduction
by kcgal
Summary: Turning 1x2ish... When news of the end of the war reaches the pilots, Duo does something rather drastic and an interesting situation occurs because of his actions. Bit angstly. :P
1. Ninmou kanryou

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Disclaimer: Unfortunatly, Duo nor any other Gundamie stuff belong to the great gods of anime (whoever they may be) and I'm just loaning him. :) Neither to I own Jewel's fabby lyrics. (They came from 'Who will save your soul', 'Pieces of you', 'Little Sister', 'Foolish Games', and 'You were ment for me' from her Pieces Of You CD.   
Authors Note: Ok, kinda well, angsty. (understatement much?) Like I said, death-ficcie. You can read just this part, or you can read this and the next chapter as an extended option. The next chapter is kind of supernaturally. Please review if your a kind kind person! Thankx!

"It's OK guys – really! You won't be that long, and I really don't mind staying." Duo assured the other four Gundum pilots. He placed his meticulously crafted cheerful and cheeky smile over his face, shooing the boys out the door. "I'll see you later!"

Finally they were gone, and Duo turned, the door shutting with a soft click behind him. The careful mask remained for a few seconds before melting off, leaving no trace of the happy smile and bright eyes that were such a trademark of the long-haired pilot. He lent back heavily on the door and his head tilted back to hit the wood softly. He looked out the small window across the room with blank eyes, before his body began to slide slowly down against the hard door until he was sitting at it's base. 

Minutes passed, and he was still sitting there, emotions flickering behind violet eyes. His eyes drifted down to his lap, where he outstretched his hands. He examined them as if he had never seen them before, turning them over and looking at every line, every abrasion to the skin like it was something to be in awe of. Moments later, he rose, standing with an indescribable grace and fluidity.

Long brown braid followed him with the same grace as he walked, seemingly aimlessly, across the room, touching objects strewn around it with an abject absentmindedness. Trailing his fingers across their surfaces, he never looked at one of them, but continued to walk, his eyes focusing on nothing – seeming to be blind to his surroundings. He crossed the threshold to the room he shared with Heero, flipping on the CD player and speakers, pressing Continuous Play. Sitting down on the lone chair of the room, he carefully moved Heero's laptop of to the side of the small desk. He pulled out a plain sheet of paper and picked up a nearby biro pen, setting them both out in front of himself and then sitting still. 

People living their lives for you on TV / They say they're better then you and you agree

He sat at the desk for indefinite amount of time, looking down on the empty paper, his head slightly leaning to the left in contemplation. Finally he picked up his pen and pressed it down at the top of the page, pausing for half a moment before the ball began to glide across the page in elegant movements, forming letters, forming words.

He says Hold my calls' from behind from cold walls / The boss says Come here boy, there ain't nothing for free'

I wish life was like a piece of paper. I wish it were blank and clean and untouched like this one was before I put the pen down. But my piece of paper I screwed up such a long time ago, tore it to shreds so that there are only little pieces of nothing left. Too many little pieces to tape together so that the paper could be used again. 

Who will save your soul when it comes to the flower's now / Who will save your soul after the lies that you told, boy? / Who will save your soul if you don't save your own?

You're all happy that the war is over, that the fighting has stopped. Even Heero. I could tell. You don't think I can, oh Perfect Soldier, but you're like an open book to me. Your eyes shone and a spark of hope lept in there somewhere. In all of you. The hope came back. And I think that's what told me mine didn't.

Some are walking, some are talking, some are stalking their kill / Got social security, but that it doesn't pay your bills / There are addictions to feed and there are mouths to pay / So you bargain with the Devil, say you're OK for today

I see the war has ended, that one side lost, that one side won, that we no longer have to go up in our beloved Gundams to fight the fight. I see this, but I find it brings no emotion from me. How long before human kind gets bored again, before waves of innocents begin to fall in rivers of blood. How long before we, or people like us, have to take the extreme measures to ensure something which is intangible and so easily lost? 

She's an ugly girl, does it make you want to kill her? / She's an ugly girl, do you want to kick her in the face? / She's an ugly girl, she doesn't pose a threat.

And even now, in this – a peaceful' world – people are lost, having no reason for living and yet struggling on, dreaming of a better life. Orphans of a war they had nothing to do with, who no one wants to help, and then there're some that can't be helped. Like me.

Ugly girl, ugly girl, do you hate her / Cause she's pieces of you?

I don't think I have anything to stay here for. I know that you'd argue em out of it, make me stop, consider, wait. But then, it'd only be a matter of when I could get away from your wary, watchful eyes and do what I'll do now. Only a matter of hidden emotions, hidden hurt, killing me from the insides. You don't know, you see, that I'm dying here on the inside, even if there isn't anything like that showing up on the outside. Soon I'll be empty – a husk with a whole lot of nothingness inside. You all think Heero's the empty one, the cold one. You don't know me.

My little sister is a Zombie in a body / with no soul a role she has learned to play / in a world today where nothing else matters

Everyday I put up my mask, shutting down myself and becoming Duo – the energetic, psycotic boy you all know. But my name isn't Duo now. Not anymore. I'm Shinigami. I thought you deserved to know. Duo was only a construct of who you, who the team, needed. We all had a part to play, and role to fulfil in order to keep each other focused, to keep each other sane. And you needed Duo. 

But it matters, we gotta star feeding our souls / Not our addictions or afflictions of pain

He was the one to crack a stupid joke at the inappropriate times so that you relaxed fractionally. He was the one you could yell at when the stress was driving you crazy. He was the one who filled the silences that would have let you think to much about what you were doing. He was the distraction that stopped you from seeing what I see. Because talking aimlessly doesn't require thought – I thought to much. And behind the mask, I lost Duo completely. 

I wish I could save her from all their delusions / all the confusion / of a nation that starves for salvation

In the beginning, there was something in there, something that kept me going – wanting a better world, wanting to protect the world from destroying itself. At some point, I wish I knew when, that something began to fade, and eventually I began living for the team. But now now there is no team. Now there is no me.

In case you failed to notice / In case you failed to see / This is my heart, bleeding before you, / This is me down on my knees.

So now, I take my leave of you. I hope you don't get too upset. You'll live on without me, finding your way out into the wide world where you don't need to be the hard soldiers you've managed to live as. You'll find your hearts, your hopes, your dreams. And when you have lived all these out, say hi to the angels for me. 

You'd teach me of honest things / things that were daring, things that were clean

And just so you know. It's not for hatred, for desperation, for sorrow, for love or anything so noble as those emotions. I've simply fulfilled my job, and now my time is up. Ninmou kanryou.

So I hid my soiled hands behind my back / Somewhere along the line I must've gone off track

Duo looked down at the page, filled with neatly printed handwriting. He looked at the words until they didn't mean anything to him, before abruptly standing and walking out of the room. Behind him, the pen rolled slowly off the table and hit the ground. 

I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead / I try and tell myself it'll be all right / I just shouldn't think anymore tonight

The pilot walked out the door of the house, leaving it hanging open as he walked into the forest where his Gundam was hidden. With practiced ease, he climbed up the cold metal, jumping into the cockpit, long silky hair flicking behind him. The hatch closed down, and moments later red flickering flames began licking around the metal. The small flames grew and grew, scorching, blackening, twisting. Soon the majestic techo-mecha was engulfed in flames. 

P.S. You can read just this part, or you can read this and the next chapter as an extended option. The next chapter is kind of supernaturally. :)


	2. No introduction

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Disclaimer: Again, nowt mmiiiine. Poop. :( Song here also by Jewel - called 'I'm Sensitive'  
Authors Note: A little bit... different. ;) You can take it anyway you wish. There's at least 5 majorly different ways of interpereting this... I just hope you like it! Feed the author! Please review? Arigato!

"Uh Heero? Did the house have a-a chimney?" Quatre asked timidly, gazing up into the sky before him. Heero's brow furrowed slightly.

"No. Why?" The blond looked over at him, then back up at the sky.

"Because, uh, well, there's smoke coming from the direction of the house and " Before Quatre could finish his sentence, Heero had taken off at a run, Trowa and Wufei not far behind. Blinking once, Quatre shot a quick look at them, the sky and his general surroundings, before running after them. The four pilots ran as fast as they could to their last safe-house, each building scenarios of what could have happened in their heads. Quatre was desperately hoping his braided friend was alright when he bumped into Trowa's back, who had stopped dead. Stumbling back a bit, the blond stepped around the taller man to see what had stopped him. His mouth fell open as he saw the burning mass of what used to be the Gundam Deathscythe. There was a strangled noise from his left, and Quatre could see Heero staring at the warping metal before him, shock and some degree of horror etched deeply into his usually unemotional face. On his other side, Quatre noticed the normally subdued Chinese pilot blinking uncomprehendingly at the Gundam. Abruptly Heero began to move again, running to the house. The other pilots pulled themselves together marginally to follow him again. 

Heero ran, his mind a jumble of unintelligible thoughts, which were bouncing through him in waves of panic and horror. He refused to believe no. Duo was fine. Nothing could've happened to him now. Not now, after all the fighting and conflict was finally over and they could be free. Not now that he could walk out into the world and be the cheerful person he was without the horrors of war pressing on his shoulders. Running up the stairs to the porch of the secluded house, Heero barreled into the door, not even pausing enough to use the door-knob. The lock gave way, and the door swung open. Inside, the room was dark, but Heero's sharp eyes scanned it desperately. He stepped cautiously into the room, able to feel his heart pounding in his chest, almost drowning out all surrounding sounds. Suddenly a shadow detached itself from the wall, and Heero was able to make out a lithe figure. He exhaled sharply, his whole body flooding with relief. He didn't even notice as his other team mates crowd into the doorway, fixing solely on the darkness-shrouded figure before him. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be shushed gently. The figure moved to sit down in one of the chairs, facing away from the pilots, seemingly totally calm as it looked out the window. Behind Heero, Wufei reached for the light switch in the wall, and flicked it on. The room flooded with light, and Heero got a brief glimpse of just the long braid long red braid Red?

Then the figure swung about in the chair, and Heero's startle eyes were pierced with glowing green ones, full of mirth and something else. Quatre gasped, Trowa backed into a wall, and Wufei dropped into a defensive position. 

"Who the fuck are you?" The Chinese man hissed. "And where the fuck is Duo?" The green eyes slid easily from Heero's to Wufei's, before trailing over the man in a lazy contemplation. The Chinese man, as well as the other three pilots, stared at the person before them. He looked exactly like Duo, except the long silky hair was no longer a shiny chestnut colour, but a flaming red. His violet eyes were now a glowing green, which pinned them all in turn with a slightly curious, however studying glance. There was also very little of the hyperactive teen they knew in the eyes of this man. The mischievous sparkle was still there, but there was now something underlying it. Something very hard. Something that had a sharp edge.

Ripping his eyes away from the hypnotic gaze, Heero looked at the man in full. He was still dressed in Duo's priestly garb, and sat languidly in the chair, reminding Heero of a cat in some chilling way. In one hand was a manila folder, long fingers idly taping it's surface. The Perfect Soldier was, for once, at an utter loss. He couldn't seem to make himself move or react, or to even get a coherent thought to grace his mind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, their was a part of him demanding to know why he wasn't doing something, and why he was letting Wufei handle the situation. Finally his body seemed to unlock, jerking backwards a step as the red-haired person rose and glided across the room towards them. Glided wasn't exactly the word. It was somewhere between gliding and slinking, moving with a grace that not even Duo possessed. He seemed totally unconcerned as Wufei tensed and prepared to attack, only pausing for a few moments, just meters before them. He brought the manila folder up in front of him, then slowly opened his hand, letting it and it's contents slip away. Tens of sheets fell from his fingers, gliding to the floor all around and littering the area with them. An uncanny smile swept across his lips and then he was gone, somehow swept past them, through the door and into the night. 

Dumbstruck, it took the four young men some time to regain their senses, and when they did, a certain amount of chaos erupted in the small room. Quatre blinked rapidly a few times then slid bonelessly to the floor, trying to keep himself from passing out in a dead faint. Trowa squatted down and picked up a couple of the sheets of paper, studying them intently. Wufei moved forward into the room, looking around and then letting off a string of swear words in various languages.

"What the fuck just happened? Was that Maxwell?" He demanded, scowling furiously.

In the end, it was Wufei's question which finally snapped Heero back to reality. His unemotional face slid back down, and he tried to assess the situation. Unknown entity may or may not be threat to team. Presumably missing team-member. Shit.

"Heero?" He turned at his name, pinpointing Trowa as it's origins. He stepped over to the brown-haired pilot, who stood up and passed him the sheets he had been studying. Heero looked at them for a few seconds before taking in what was on them. Pencil sketches. One was of Wufei doing some sort of material arts move, a look of concentration artfully detailed on his face. The clothes on him rippled and swayed, making the picture seem alive. The other was another detailed drawing of Heero's own Gundam in action. Blinking down at the pages, Heero abruptly turned and began picking up and looking at the other pieces of paper.

More sketches. Every one of them detailed and beautiful and almost alive. They differed in subject widely. Some were of the pilots, in battle, at home, at play. Others were of the Gundams and their weapons. Some were of other people, other places, other scenes. Heero found one of a woman with a small baby cradled in her arms. Another of an old man begging on a corner. Another of two women standing on a street corner, obviously prostitutes. Each of them seemed to tell the character's life story, depicting them in such a way that Heero thought he knew much about all of them - just from the one picture. He continued around the room until he had picked them all up, oblivious to the other three watching him. When he had finished, he stood abruptly, looking down at the papers like he didn't know where they came from and then turning to Wufei and shoving them into his hands. Heero walked stiffly from the room, heading towards the one he shared with Duo. Behind him, Wufei glanced through the pages, eyes widening with every one he looked at.

Heero looked around the bedroom, scrutinizing every part of it. A CD was playing from the corner, the female voice sounding slightly hollow in the room for some reason. Eyes finally lighting on the paper on the desk beside his laptop, he went over and picked it up. Scanning over the first few lines, his face went white and abruptly sat down, beginning to read from the beginning again. After he had finished, he read it again. And again. Finally he put it down quietly and stared blankly at the wall for a few minutes.

"Heero?" 

I have this theory that if we're told we're bad / Then that's the only idea we'll ever have

"Heero? W..what's going on?" Quatre asked hesitantly, his open face flickering between confusion and anxiety. The Arabian crept over to stand next to Heero, looking down at him. Heero picked up the letter and pushed it at the blonde, before returning to staring at nothing. Quatre shot a worried look at the silent young man and then turned his attention to the letter. By half-way through it, tears were running down his face, and when he had reached the end, he collapsed on the ground again, sobbing hard – the letter clutched in one hand.  
"Quatre? What's wrong?" Trowa asked, entering the room and seeing the two pilots. Kneeling down beside Quatre, he gently pulled the letter from his grasp, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. The hand he was using moved less and less as he read through the words before him, until it fell away entirely. 

But maybe if we are surrounded in beauty / Someday we will become what we see

Trowa stood up and left the room, the two pilots behind him in the same positions as when he entered. Hands slightly trembling, he handed the letter to Wufei, who was still looking through the pictures. Setting them down carefully, he cast a glance at Trowa before beginning to read. When he was finished, his face was stony and emotionless, but his fist was clenched up so hard it had turned white. He put the letter down on top of the drawings and went to the nearest wall, plowing his fist into it unmercifully, his knuckles splitting and specks of blood spraying across the wall. Then suddenly his taught body sagged, falling against the wall, his forehead hitting it and his eyes clenching shut. 

Heero walked out of the bedroom, leaving Quatre sobbing on the floor, and through the living room, ignoring Wufei and Trowa. He walked out the front door and stopped. Closing his eyes briefly and then looking out at the forest and the star-filled sky. He remained looking stonily ahead, while over to his right and slightly behind him a long-red-headed young man lent against the wall, looking at the same sight.

"Who are you?" Heero asked, straining to keep his voice steady. The other boy shrugged.

"I am what I am."  
"Who are you?" He repeated, clenching his teeth. The red-head looked over at him with the eerily glowing eyes and considered him for a moment.

"I think you know." This was greeted by silence. "Death needs no introduction."

I'd rather see the world from a different angle / We are everyday angels / Be careful with me cause I'd like to stay that way.


	3. Interlude

"So what now?" Heero asked, looking directly at the red-haired youth in front of him.  
  
"Nothing. You go back, celebrate with Relena and the rest of humanity that the war is over, try living a semi-normal life." Wufei snorted behind Heero, while both Quatre and Trowa looked on with quiet expressions.  
  
"And you?" Heero asked, his shuttered expression never moving. The other boy smiled, somewhat disconcertingly.  
  
"I'll be around." He answered simply.  
  
"But we won't see you." Heero stated, and the other smiled knowingly.  
  
"No." He agreed. "But don't worry about me. You have an exhausting few days ahead of you. I suggest you get some sleep. The red-head told them, nodding towards the other pilots. Nobody moved. Another smile spread across his face, and with a quick movement, he stepped forward and pressed his lips to those of Heero's. Heero stiffened in shock as he felt the soft lips on his own, and a warm tongue darting out to run over his lips before somehow gaining access to his mouth. The tongue ran through his mouth briefly, it's silkiness gone before he could react, yet not fast enough to belay the shiver that shocked up his spine. When he stepped back, Heero noticed somewhere in the back of him mind that the other's eyes were not longer a bright green but a kind of aqua-crystalline blue. And then he was gone, disappeared like a vapor, except that this time, Heero knew he wasn't standing outside. All that was left were words, which floated in the air before dissipating after their owner.  
  
"I'll be back. When you need me."  
  
Looking down, Heero stared blankly at his chest, before a hand moved up in an almost involuntary motion, and clasped the golden crucifix that now hung around his neck.  
  
  
  
Authors note: First off, Please, Please review! Thankx to those (all 4 of you, lol) that did!  
  
A couple of people asked for more, and I had thought about it before... but truthfully, I wrote the story originally as just a one shot that ended where the second part left off. BUT I had entertained ideas of what I could do with a Death-Duo thing, and I thought it might be interesting to try and continue it. However, I don't know when I'll be able to write/post any futher parts. I'll work on it, but I'm horrible with deadlines! Sorry!  
  
BTW- if your looking for a great 1+2, go read mitsugi's Brindlewood Mannor. Absolutely fabulous writing and a very involved plot line. 


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